TimeKeeper
by webidolchiu94
Summary: It's about a rebellious teen. That's all.
1. Enfant Terrible

**Chapter 1: We all meet who we're dealing with, and it isn't the Doctor**

**.**

42 students sat unceremoniously at their desks. No one absent nor tardy, and so far the day had passed on without a single incident. In other words, aliens hadn't stirred up any trouble, and that was what made it so gloriously good. **Normal**, even. One _could_ say, if they were so inclined, that it was an abnormality. Which, in Cardiff, it was, and if you lived there it seemed downright suspicious. Or it was an enormous relief.

Mostly it depended on your viewpoint.

But to this group of children it didn't matter either way. They were inside taking a written exam. The last of many in this year. It had been oddly difficult for this batch, especially one girl in particular.

In any case, she didn't sit in the back of the class for no _reason._

Darlene Jones.

_That_ name would make most teachers at Mountstuart Primary School raise their eyebrows and wriggle their noses with something akin to, but not unlike disgust. Even Mr. Morris, the headteacher, was a bit gleeful to hear that she was going to leave from his institute in only two years. Many wished it would happen sooner because the three years she _had_ been with them were very similar to what most imagine hell would be like.

Not only was she rude, arrogant, and downright stubborn; she happened to be their brightest student. That, and the fact that she gave off a feeling of unease was very **unsettling** to say the least. Redundancy aside, she was an overall strange girl.

Once, she had somehow found a way to melt all the crayons in her classroom and convince the children to splatter the unsightly goop everywhere. It all cleaned off nicely of course, but that was only the first year. Needless to say, she just couldn't keep out of trouble for very long.

. - .

"So here the children were, taking their exam, when right in the middle of the test, you-know-who gets up and stomps all the way to the front of the class."

As usual, the staff had gathered in the break-room to discuss the events of the day. And none other than Madam Pemmfrie was discussing her latest 'traumatic encounter' with none other than Darlene Jones. She rubbed her neck and held her coffee while she retold the event. Gesturing so wildly her ginger curls would shake almost indignantly in nature.

"What's wrong? I ask, in the sweetest voice I could. Oh, but she—,"

The woman's face became red with anger.

"**She** insisted I rewrite the test. I asked whatever for, and she gives me this look, like I'm some…_worm_."

Madam Pemmfrie squinted her eyes and pinched her fingers together to accentuate the point.

"And says," she continued in a high, simpering voice, "'your history is skewed by perception. The only way to know the truth is to live through it and compare notes with everyone else.'"

"As if she were the teacher and not me!" roared a few other teachers, saying the sentence at the same time as she did. Of course, by now they'd gotten used to that strange girl and saw it all as a joke.

Looking on with amusement, Mr. Ian Chessleton snickered and hid his face, which seemed to draw the wrath of Madam Pemmfrie.

"NOW WHAT ARE **YOU** LAUGHING AT CHESSLETON?"

He simply snickered again and strolled away, not wanting to draw any more fuel to the fire.


	2. C'est La Vie

AN: Let's pretend what happened at the end of Season two never happened. Let's pretend that Owen and Tosh survived. And I'll also take this opportunity to tell you all that Torchwood is something I do NOT own. Nor do I own Doctor Who. However, I would like to believe all original characters are mine, as well as any alien species I concoct. Onward to the story then….

.

**Chapter 2: A Bloody Accident Involving….Well…Actual Blood**

**.**

**Amidst the broken glass, gears and cogs lay a single hand. In its palm rest a soot-black watch. It's ticking times the universe, the heart of an ancient kind. Within it rest the consciousness of an archaic being, one of the last of its Kind. Someday that being was to be protected by another rarity. A rarity that once was human. Two souls that were reunited, finally together again.**

**.**

Owen Harper wasn't just **mad**, he was **livid**. In front of him sat a little girl around eight or nine years old, caramel skin, brown eyes, nasty grin. She was in her school uniform, of course, fresh from school no less, and her mother just _had_ to bring her to the hub. From one doctor to another that worked for a secret governmental agency, he had to say, this was highly unprofessional. Right now he was pacing the lab, waiting for Ianto to show up. Today had been overall uneventful aside from a few temporal distortions in the area. No doubt at all that it was their friend in a little blue box.

However, Martha was unconcerned. That was what Retcon was for, wasn't it?

"Oh, really?" said Owen. He pointed to Darlene. "Retcon's gonna fix that isn't it? It can bloody fix _everything_!" He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Why is she here anyway?"

"It's…complicated." Martha grabbed Darlene's shoulders as the girl swung her feet from the stool. Despite everything she was still smiling brightly and played with the dark ponytail hanging around her shoulders.

"Look, I **swear** I had left her with a sitter, but she escaped," Martha looked askance, "somehow."

"Sure, a _kid_ somehow," Owen paced the room lengthwise, "managed to _sneak past_ her babysitter and break into a top secret facility." He wondered if it would be corny to break out in bitter maniacal laughter. He did it anyway, but it sounded more like 'off his rocker' than bitter and evil.

During his pacing Darlene had raised her hand. "It's not very secret, actually."

_She didn't just say that, _he thought.

"Tell me that she didn't just say that." Owen looked to Martha, who decided to plead the fifth. "How did you bloody get here?"

Frowning, Martha made an attempt to cover her daughter's ears in case he decided on starting a swearing spree. "_Language_, Owen!" She gave him a stern look which he ignored completely.

The child shrugged. She had promised a certain someone not to tell of how **exactly **she got here. Specifically it was thanks to a trio of tall teenagers that comprised of two girls and a boy, plus a funny-talking man that had an incredible haircut.

"Mum uses the same tech to hide the cookies. You just figure out where you don't want to go. That and following mum was easy."

While it was true she had followed her mother to Torchwood, how she got in was another story. Preferably for another chapter.

"Fix this Martha." Owen pointed to Darlene.

What did he think she was going to do about it, recruit her daughter to work for U.N.I.T and/or Torchwood? That was crazy-talk. But it wasn't that bad of an idea. In any case, Martha wouldn't agree to it in the first place, her mother would have a heart-attack if she ever found out her grandchildren were involved with 'weird alien things' as well.

"Alright," she agreed, kneeling down to her level to look the girl in the eye. "Look, Darlene, you have to go home.

"Why mum?"

At this point she had no explanation that wouldn't further her daughter's minimal knowledge of top secret organizations. "Well…"

"Because you're not allowed here," said a voice from the doorway.

Dressed in an impeccably clean black suit and cream shirt with newly-polished shoes and a playful grin, was Ianto Jones. Today he was giving off an air of confidence that was partially unsettling for no apparent reason. At the sight of him, Owen rolled his eyes; sometimes he thought Tea-Boy would've been _marvelous _for daytime television. How else did he make such on-cue entrances?

"Where've _you_ been Ianto?" asked the disgruntled doctor, making him sound like a British version of Dr. McCoy. Or better yet: a British version of House.

"I just left the showers next to the shooting range."

Which would explain why he looked so clean and baby-fresh.

"_This. Is. __**Rich**_." thought Owen. "Really?" he asked, feeling particularly amused at the moment by an idea that popped into his mind. "Where's Jack?"

His reaction was priceless. Ianto looked down and coughed into his hand, slightly becoming pink. "Showers next to the shooting range," he muttered. Owen raised both his eyebrows and faked surprise.

Darlene giggled but covered her mouth when she saw Ianto's next expression. The joke hadn't completely gone over her head, but it was scary at how fast he'd gotten over the embarrassment. He wore a smile, a very cryptic one that said on a subconscious level 'you better be afraid' despite how cordial it was. What was worse is that it was directed towards her and Owen. But mostly her.

"Hello." Ianto walked over and stood in front of Darlene. "Now, who are you?"

"Darlene Jones," said the girl so innocently he would have thought it rehearsed if he didn't know better. Turns out he didn't, because it _was_ just a façade. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Your kid, Martha?" he gave the doctor a little smile.

"You could say that."

"Well Ms. Darlene," he held out his hand. "My name is Ianto Jones, how do you do?"

And then Darlene had a sudden thought of why that funny man with the great hair had helped her to get into the facility.

"Are you my Daddy?" asked Darlene. She had a slightly hopeful smile that would've probably been great for Christmas morning. The men, if they'd been drinking something, both would've had a spit take. Ianto looked like a deer staring into an oncoming car at night, while Owen looked like slugs were stealing his car.

At the question, Owen and Ianto gave Martha a Look. What was funny is that she stood unaffected by the question. Either that or she had one hell of a poker face.

"What?" asked Martha, who was doing a good job at sounding nonchalant.

"Who's her father?" asked Ianto.

"That's classified, I'm afraid," said Martha, crossing her arms.

"You _mean_ that you won't tell us," Owen accused. He shook a disapproving finger her way.

Gwen's face flashed by the doorway, but she stopped and turned around when she saw who was in the room. "Owen, I've got some reports I need you to," her voice dropped off when she saw the small gathering in the lab. Her left eyebrow rose up. "Who's that? A new recruit?"

"Martha's kid, Darlene jones, Ianto's the father," said Owen in complete seriousness, with the facial expression to boot.

"Oi, I never said that!" Matha interjected, slamming her hand on a nearby tabletop.

"Oh," said Gwen, trying to sort out a resemblance between the Ianto, the girl, and Martha aside from her more-than-obvious skin tone. "Then who is her—"

"Hey guys."

And suddenly there was Jack. He was wiping the excess water from his ears with a white towel that hung around his neck. "What's up?"

"This is getting out of hand." Ianto wanted to bury his face in his hands.

"Who's the kid?" asked Jack, completely baffled by the little gathering before him. A girl on a stool, Gwen holding a stack of reports, his boyfriend standing around looking nervous, and Owen just looked plain old mad. Martha was the only calm one, it seemed. Tosh was nowhere to be found however, and if she were here then maybe Martha wouldn't be the only one with an untroubled look.

Again, Owen repeated his statement, as did Martha's objection to it.

Now, while they were explaining the situation to Gwen and Jack, Darlene put this as an opportunity to explore the lab fully. She had been interrupted earlier when they had found her wandering around the hub dangerously close to the shooting range. Of course, like most little children, she was attracted to the shiniest object in the room.

At the moment this happened to be a new specimen sample that the Torchwood team had collected about two days ago. The small amount of red liquid was sealed in a glass slide for viewing. Darlene had just picked it up from the stand it was placed on when a hand reached out to grab her by the wrist. Who else was it but Owen?

"Put that down missy," he warned, "or else I might have to hurt you."

What happened to 'do no harm'? thought Gwen. She rolled her eyes at the empty threat. Truthfully Owen would never hurt a child, but if he wanted to scare her into listening, fine.

The girl simply smiled. "Sure," she said. "As soon as you let go of me."

It was an innocent-enough request, delivered unbelievably calmly as well. Owen bit his lip and stared at her a moment before backing down; he hadn't finished examining that specimen just yet. However, as soon as he did release her, she lunged backwards to run away. Instead she ended up tripping over her left foot. Her hands went out to catch her but her fingers brushed against a stirring implement underneath a test tube holder that held only one vial, effectively knocking it over. Contained within that vial, incidentally, was the same substance in the slide she was carrying, which also broke within her hands from impact with the floor. So basically, when she fell, Darlene brought down a lot.

Red was everywhere, much like at the butchers when they slaughter something.

Over her hands was a thin film of blood, partially hers, part from the slide, and shards of glass were embedded in her palm. The vial itself had dumped some of its contents over her, staining her uniform, and then had also shattered when it went floor-diving. The ground was covered by sticky alien blood and it wasn't pretty.

Well, the adults didn't panic at least. But they did use caution, they weren't stupid. Owen quickly cleaned up the area. Martha, meanwhile, ushered her daughter away for a stern talk and to clean her up. Everyone directly involved was careful to wear gloves and a mask of course.

But the strangest thing was that in the commotion, they all had forgotten to give the girl some Retcon.

_Oh well_, said the universe while chuckling to itself, _c'est la vie._


	3. Lost In Translation

AN: Just so everyone isn't confused, we're getting to what the summary described. Though, I should have just said "rebellious person" but I don't want to change it. A lot of things are going to go down. A LOT OF THINGS, so hold on. Bold is future and italics is what is happening very very soon.

.

**Chapter 3: So it's Eight Years Later, Why are we Here of All Places?**

**.**

**Mindfood was on the table, and it didn't look appetizing. Either it would help boost their mental faculties, or send them spiraling into Wonderland—a stupefying coma of idiocy. The small red pills seemed to almost shine with malevolent glee. All three took the medicine without a moment's hesitation.**

**.**

_A thin silver disk spiraled around in the vacuum of space like a coin being flipped, its trajectory hurling it toward Earth's moon, twirling faster and faster until it was a blinding white sphere. Obviously it was a spaceship, but of what origin few could answer. Faster than a pinball, the ship circled around the moon once and was slingshot toward Earth rather unceremoniously. Inside, the one occupant smiled to herself and held onto the console to brace herself. This landing was going to be another rough one._

.

"I hate the dark."

Shuffling around, Darlene bit her lip and tried to find the exit, but the absence of light around her was making it more difficult than it should have been.

"I know," echoed the voice above her. "That's why you need to hurry up." The (now) teenaged girl squinted at where she assumed the speaker in the ceiling was.

"These tests are _stupid,_" she shot back. "My night vision stinks."

Mary Engleburg sighed from her seat in the testing area's control room. All around her were consoles with lights that blinked and glowed to the tune of Beethoven's lost symphony. Most of the equipment was a peculiar shade of forest green that Mary didn't enjoy staring at for long. When she signed up for Torchwood she didn't expect grunt work like _this_. Mouthy test subjec—er , **Volunteers** weren't part of any testing procedure she'd heard of before. Mary pushed the comm link. "You ever hear that you talk funny?" she remarked.

"All the time," Darlene said absently. Ever since meeting a certain Andromedan Capitan, her accent decided it was tired of being one certain thing, and had somehow morphed from Delightfully Welsh to Somewhat Very American. Currently, though, she was navigating yet another pointless maze. Anxious breaths whooshed in and out of her lungs. Not just scared witless in addition to irritated, Darlene was lost; these corridors weren't easy to navigate with her sucky night vision.

All around her was black, black, black, dark, she fanned herself and held the wall, so dark inky black, hey was it getting hot in here or was it just—

A small thud could be heard from Mary's side of the comm. She shook her head. So it happened again, did it? Darlene had fainted.

.

A small pen-light shone over the semi-conscious girl. Half a second later, Darlene flinched away from the brightness and sat upright on the aluminum examination table. It had been about five minutes since she was taken to the Medi-Lab.

"I'm fine, really."

"Fine my arse," said Owen. He wanted to pull his greying hair out by the roots. New Recruits, Volunteers, Ambassadors, in the past few years Torchwood's Cardiff branch had become a circus of epic proportions. Even though a certain accident two years back had added some years to most of their lives, he still felt too old for all this change. What was most disappointing was that Owen thought he had been rid of this girl when she left here the first time.

Darlene wasn't thrilled to see Owen either, considering it was the vial of blood that **he** had been studying that had dropped on her. Afterward, it was test after unwilling test. Samples of course were taken from her as well, and after a while it tends to get annoying having a needle jabbed into your arm every hour on the hour.

She was fine from the incident, but somehow the alien DNA had bonded with her cells, which wasn't good at all from a medical standpoint.

In any case it hadn't harmed her much. Before the accident she had an aversion to the dark. Despite that, she couldn't stay for long in direct sunlight either without feeling ill. But that was one symptom amongst many: Insomnia, strange dreams, a liking for extra extra rare steaks, the list was lengthy.

Right now, though, she was in the lab, having Dr. Harper question her again. He was just getting to the embarrassing part about encounters with the other gender, when Darlene spotted the clock on the wall behind the physician.

_6:33_

"Holy sh—," she began to exclaim. Owen shot her a hypocritical glare, which she quickly noticed. "—itake muhrooms. I'm going to be late!" And at once she hopped down from the table and grabbed her denim messenger bag.

"Nice recovery," he remarked. "Well, fine." Owen looked at her chart for the whatever-number-he-was-up-to-th time. "I guess you can go but—"

When he glanced up a second later she was gone.

Owen shrugged. Good riddance.

_6:55, 27 Princes Court_

"Look, this isn't going to work." A tall-ish, maybe 5' 10" boy crossed his arms and sat, well, looking cross. His face was unyielding as stone as his focused his stare on Darlene, who, was standing in the doorway panting. It had taken a record-breaking sprint of about nineteen minutes to get to his house, three minutes worth of explaining (minus the top secret stuff), and about two seconds for him to respond with a concise little. "No."

"Come **ON**," she whined. "The competition is tomorrow!"

"I hadn't noticed," he said seriously, arching one sarcastic eyebrow. Daniel Finnegan was no pushover. He'd been friends with Darls since they were mini-hellions at Mountstuart, and by now he was immune to whatever persuasion techniques she had devised over the years. "But you were late for practice…_again._"

"I know but—,"

He rose a hand up. "You better have a good explanation for why you are or else."

Her eyebrows lifted by a fraction. Or else _what_? She wasn't going to play at the battle of the bands? Nonsense. Utter hogwash. How in Merlin's name was he to pull off finding another drummer in little over 24 hours?

"You want the truth?" she asked him. Of course, the whole 'Torchwood is a secret' thing was always a given, and she couldn't directly tell him where she was always going afterschool, over the years she had been very tempted to just spill the beans. Much like now, for instance.

Darlene mused over this. She couldn't directly tell him, but if she hinted at the right things….

"I don't think you want to know the truth," she said matter-o-factly, suddenly breaking into her pre-mischief grin.

"Of course I do!" he sighed. Exasperation was only one of his feelings at the moment. Not an unusual thing when he was around his friend.

"Really? Because you might not be able to _handle _it."

"Handle—," he sputtered in confusion. "Darls don't be daft…" She had a look of challenge on her face, and her eyes were dark yet pensive. It was highly unsettling to say the least, the effect it had on the poor teen's brain. "I've no idea what you're trying to say."

She clapped her hands together. "Let's just say I can't directly tell you, because it would be a matter of national, and/or planetary security."

It took mere seconds for the cogs and wheels in his mind to click into place. An amused laugh bounced out of his mouth. "That's a good one, Darls. Next thing you'll say that you work for bloody Torchwood!"

Darlene gave him a serious look, her arms crossed.

Daniel's eyes nearly popped out of his head, but he quickly regained his composure. "No, really, Darls, why were you late?"

She threw her hands in the air and sighed. He had it figured out and yet he dismissed it. In a way she felt sorry for him. Darlene walked to the door in a huff, slinging the bag across her right shoulder. With her left hand she opened the door.

"You're such a prat sometimes, Dan." She glanced behind her for a second. "I'll see you at the competition tomorrow, okay?"

She left without protest. He couldn't really say anything to that. Daniel had wanted an explanation, but in truth he really wanted to know what had absorbed so much of her spare time lately. Maybe she had some secret boyfriend on the side she had been seeing lately? But it seemed very unlikely. He would notice if she fancied someone else. The only ones they hung out with were the twins, Sadie and Shelly. Daniel was pretty sure she didn't swing _that_ way.

Or did she? He never could tell these days, what with the Valentines incident earlier that year. He cursed himself as he blushed at the thought. It was certainly a surprise, but it in the end it was actually one of her little schemes. To think she paid some poor girl to… he slapped himself before the image could pop back into his brain.

The girl was loony, bonkers, straight up bananas, but he still was her friend.

**Just** her friend. It was funny how people liked to put the two together as a couple. Daniel had noticed it from time to time, but their suspicions were never really warranted. Not that he didn't want to. She just seemed to have bigger things on her mind, and he didn't think he had the nerves to ask her out properly.

Funny, how he hung around a group of all-girls but _she_ was the one they always assumed he would be with. Even funnier was how they joked he had his own personal harem.

The one who cracked that one nearly got a cracked skull from his so-called 'harem'.

Still, what was Darlene hiding? He couldn't tell. Her face when he mentioned Torchwood did surprise him. Daniel shrugged and fell back onto his bed, staring at the glow-in the dark constellation stickers he and Darls had put there when they were only ten.

Thinking back, he really was nuts for being her friend. But he was downright _insane_ for falling in love. The chances were exceptionally slim that they'd ever be _together_, though. Say, about as slim as him visiting another planet.

Fortunately, the universe was going to tip the scales in favor of the planet-visiting thing.


End file.
